


Afterparty

by WyattM



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Drinking to Cope, M/M, Molayne's having a bad night, Pining, Quarter-Life Crisis, Really one sided Molayne/Kukui, Really really one-sided
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyattM/pseuds/WyattM
Summary: Molyane had a little too much fun at Kukui and Burnet's wedding... and by too much fun, he had no fun at all.  Good thing Guzma's been roped into getting him home after he makes a drunken spectacle of himself.And by 'good thing', he means no, not at all.





	Afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning: Molayne is drunk and having an existential crisis basically through this entire fic. References to past child abuse. Public drunkenness. Kissing. Consent level: questionable due to alcohol and mental trepidation. Cursing.

 

"Kid, I'm not feeling real good about leaving you here."

The words snap the former trial captain out of his stupor.  Molayne finds himself half-sprawled on pavement, his head spinning as his eyes fail to focus on the officer standing above him.  His side stings from where he hit the pavement. There's a tear in his tuxedo pants based on the cold night air against his knees.  His glasses landed somewhere near his side, his hands unconsciously groping along the ground for them.

His eyes begin to focus again as puts his glasses back on and sits up, the world around him unstable.  Arms crossed and scowling, the freshly-appointed Kahuna of Ula'ula hovers over him.

That can't be right- Molayne doesn't remember coming back to Ula'ula.  He tries to scrape together his hazy recollection the night, though his brain can't seem to connect even the simplest of pieces.   His last almost clear memory puts him on Melemele, cleaning up the debris from the wedding. There's some pieces of a stumble away, a flash of vomiting into a trash can, maybe looking at the ocean?  Was that from tonight or a different night? The bachelor party wound up being a little rough... maybe it was the bachelor party?

The service Charizard won't pick up drunks.  Molayne is the definition of drunk. He must have taken a boat, but if the skinny young man can't even remember the last few hours of his life, he could have never navigated buying a ferry ticket.

Did the ferries even run this late?

_What time is it, anyway?_

His phone is dead, he notices as he pulls it from his tuxedo pocket to check the time.  Sophocles will be upset. He was supposed to text when he left the reception, hopefully he remembered to send that message.  He can't remember leaving, much less a text message.

 _Damn_.

"Hey, kid.  Molly-anne," the Kahuna mispronounces, his voice laden with frustration as he grabs Molayne by the armpits and wrenches him to his feet.  "You lucid?"

Molayne snaps to attention, _mortified_.  Kahuna Nanu is speaking to him with the same tone used on the Team Skull kids.  Molayne never misbehaves, he shouldn't have done anything to deserve this treatment.  This isn't right. Nothing is right tonight, but this _isn't_ right.  He's not some delinquent, and yet, he's behaving like one.

"Yes sir, I'm fine," his words slur together as his balance eludes him. Kahuna Nanu's frame sways back and forth.  How many drinks did he have? At least four cocktails, plus a flask which is now missing in action, maybe a few beers… and that's the end of the memory in that department.

He wishes he could ask Kukui.  Kukui always kept track of him when they drank in the past.  That's not going to be an option anymore.

"You sure?  You can't fucking stand," the Kahuna reminds him sternly, "I got shit to do tonight, I can't be babysitting captains.  Former captains. Whatever the fuck it is you are."

Did Kahuna Nanu take him back here?  He didn't even attend the wedding, that can't be possible.  Molayne earned an earful of "I don't know this kid why am I getting an invite" and "can't you people keep to yourselves", as well as a multitude of curses, some in languages Molayne didn't know, when he delivered the invitation to the Po Town police station.

"I'll be alright in a second," he insists, glancing around for a solid support to brace himself on that isn't Nanu.  The new Kahuna hasn’t earned a reputation a friendly demeanor and, even drunk, he's too scared to risk upsetting the man.

There's a lamppost, he can lean on the lamppost.  He stumbles past the other man, grabbing the pole for dear life and falling into it instead.  Somehow, he manages to slump to his knees instead of falling again.

The Kahuna sighs, shaking his head.  "Kid, you're a mess right now."

"Just had a bit too much to drink," Molayne forces a smile, hoping Nanu will walk away and stop paying him any mind forever.  He's not a delinquent, just an idiot. The island authority doesn't need to give him attention ever, let alone in this state. "I'm a little unsteady."

"No shit.  Who do you think carried your ass on and off the boat?"

_Well, that answers that question._

The former captain can feel himself blush hot red.  "Er, thank you sir..."

"I'd take you home but I gotta answer that call," Nanu grumbles, ignoring the gratitude, "Folks in actual trouble take priority over drunken fools."

A radio on his belt sounds, requesting backup somewhere on Route 12.  With a gulp, Molayne realizes the full spectacle he's causing- both stumbling drunk in front of a Kahuna and preventing law enforcement from responding to an emergency.  He's a downright embarrassment.

_And this, Mo, is why you did not get married tonight.  You're pathetic._

"Of course sir!  Thank you again!"

Nanu stuffs his hands in his pocket and turns on his heels.  "Don't mention it," he responds over his shoulder, the tone more of an order than a pleasantry.

Molayne breathes a sigh of relief as he walks away.  The Tapu knows, Nanu is the least-tolerant and most frightening Kahuna he's ever experienced (the single most frightening person he's ever _dealt_ with, college professors included).  He's almost thankful he can't remember leaving the remains of the reception, since he would suffer a panic attack at the memory.

Well, he can't bring himself to panic.  He's far too miserable. He didn't want to be at that wedding.  He certainly didn't want to be best man, and he absolutely didn't want to force a smile as he watched his best friend go through the happiest day of his life.

Kukui is now off with his new wife, doing things Molayne can't bring himself to think about.  The former trial captain doesn't need to force a smile anymore. There's no one around to be happy for right now, and by the Tapu, he isn't going to be happy.

His forehead wilts into his skinned knees and his eyes start to gush.

A memory from years ago fades into his head- _"I mean, you're my best friend, Molayne... that's all.  I'm sorry..."_

_"Oh, no, it's alright.  It's just me being stupid."_

_"No, no!  It's not stupid!  Just, I can't say I feel that way."_

_"Just forget it!  It's nothing!"_

_"Mo… we can talk about… this…"_

_"Don't worry about it, I'm fine!"_

Between sobs, he feels someone pick him up off the ground.  

No, not again.  He is not going to be found drunk _and_ crying to himself by the island's Kahuna.  He caused enough trouble tonight, for now he'll just… sit.  Malie City is relatively safe. Sitting here poses no danger.

"Come on, dork," a familiar voice wheezes, pulling Molayne off the pavement.

The scrawnier man surges with adrenaline.  That's not the Kahuna. That voice belongs to the only person Molayne wants to see _less_ than Kahuna Nanu in this state.

He's about to get mugged and beaten if he doesn't do something.  "Guzma! Let go!" he yells while flailing, attempting to strike the Team Skull leader as if he could do damage in a physical fight.  Molayne is twenty pounds underweight and never so much as seen the inside of a gym.

Guzma drops him and he lands on his face, his glasses flying off again.  "Hey! Quit squirming!"

"What are you doing?!" Molayne panics, unable to do more than flip himself over and attempt to scramble away. He stumbles backwards instead and falls on his rear this time, a few feet away from the other man.

"Calm down!" Guzma snaps, "I'm trying to get you home!"

 _Bullshit_.  Molayne's been beat up enough times to know better.  Guzma held a grudge against him from since the day he was named a trial captain.  "You want my wallet? All yours, I'm broke anyway."

"I'm being honest for change!  The old man told me he'd let me off the hook if I took ya home," he explains testily, picking up Molayne's glasses.  "I didn't feel like sittin' around in a cell all night."

"I don't believe you," Molayne snaps, scooting backward and feeling the seat of his trousers start to tear.  He's not getting his deposit back on this tuxedo, which is just fantastic. He needed that for food money.

Guzma shrugs, stepping closer, "Believe what ya want."

Surprisingly, the punk just hands him back his glasses.  Shaking, Molayne takes them (in two tries, the world still spins) and slips them back on his face.

"...whatever." _The Kahuna sure makes some... odd decisions._  

Guzma grins.  "Alright, up ya go."  He grabs Molayne up by the waist and throws him over his shoulder.

"Put me down!  I can walk!" He slaps at the back of Guzma's head,  knocking the sunglasses almost off his head.

"Pfft," Guzma chuckles to himself, threatening to drop Molayne out of amusement.  Molayne shrieks a little at the prospect and grabs onto Guzma's sweatshirt instead.  "The old man wouldn'tve been so damn worried if ya could."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah yeah," he starts to walk towards town, "I'm sure.  You're the only asshole in Alola who wanted to be at that wedding less than me.  Don't gotta lie, I don't give a shit."

Thank Tapu Bulu that Guzma can't see his face right now.  Molayne goes bright red at the realization he's less than subtle.  "Do I even want to know what you're in trouble for?"

"Public urination," Guzma laughs, "Old man was in a rush to get somewhere else and cut me a deal."

Molayne groans at the utter stupidity.  To think, he used to follow the man around.  Well, he never explicitly followed Guzma around.  He followed Kukui around for years, and at some point, Guzma became part of that package.  It had been a relief when they broke up for several reasons, but never seeing Guzma again had at least been a silver lining when Molayne failed to woo the other man.

It's still humiliating, much like being carried home by his Kahuna and sobbing over the loss of his longtime crush to a better person.   "Have you ever considered not being a dumb brute?"

"Heh, and be a dork like you?  Too much damn work," he shrugs.  "Where do ya live anyway?"

"Like I'm telling you that."  Molayne doesn't have many worldly possessions, but what he does have won't be stolen by Team Skull anytime soon.

"Well, I'm not giving you a choice, 'cause if the old man finds ya on the street my ass is going to to jail again.  You can either tell me where ya live, or I can take ya to Po Town and you crash the night with me."

Molayne squirms at the thought.  Guzma snorts out a 'hmph' but doesn't otherwise reply to the gesture.

"I'll sober up enough before he comes back," Molayne insists, "Just leave me over by the library."

"I'ma wait til you can walk then.  I'm serious about that jail thing."

That's met with an eye roll, even if the punk can't see it.  "To think, the Great Guzma afraid of someone."

"Ya know how hard it is to get a pickup from that place?  Every damn one of my grunts is afraid of 'im." He gestures in frustration.  The new Kahuna must be a sore spot. Team Skull, in theory, can't have free reign over Ula'ula anymore.

In practice, Kahuna Nanu hasn't done much of anything about the problem.  The old Aunties that congregate at the community center have quite a few words to say about it.

"Rightfully so.  You heard the rumor he's ex-Interpol, right?" Molayne reminds him, as if someone _hasn't_ heard the rumor.  The old Aunties have quite a few words about that as well.

The other man shrugs it off.  "Yeah yeah, he probably made up that rumor himself so nobody'd bug him."

Actually, that seems like an overwhelming possibility.  Even with an acting Kahuna these days, Ula'ula had a frighteningly low number of challengers earn their stamp, part of the time because they couldn't locate the man.

"I can't believe he saw me like this," Molayne thinks aloud, the alcohol preventing his thoughts from staying out of his mouth, "After all the trust he's put into me so far…"

Guzma snorts at the insecurity, "It was a wedding, what'd he expect?"

"He asked me to appoint my successor last month.  It doesn't inspire much maturity."

"Yeah, and that was fuckin' bullshit.  Maybe this'll make him take shit seriously around here," Guzma grumbles, before adding under his breath, "I hate agreeing with the damn old crobats around the community center."

Molayne's still… undecided on the matter.  Tapu Bulu has reasons for everything. "...We'll all have to get used to he wants to manage things, I guess."

"Or hope Bulu strikes 'im down sooner than that."

"We went four years without a Kahuna.  I don't presume to understand the Tapu but he must've put some consideration into this decision," Molayne suggests, before Guzma threatens to drop him at the suggestion.  Before he can correct himself, the former trial captain latches onto him.

Instead of laughing at the other man's misfortune, Guzma continues his stream of discontent.

"I don't fucking _get_ you," he mentions as he opens the door of a nearby shop- one of the many steadfast twenty-four hour food joints of Alola, "I'm getting a fuckin' malasada, you want?"

"What?  No, don't take me in here, there are people!" Molayne half-shrieks in horror, his alcohol riddled brain catching up to his captor's intentions.  

This is the most embarrassing (and horrible) evening of Molayne's life.  The population of Malie City seeing him drunk and thrown over the shoulder of the scourge of Po Town isn't going to add to any of this, even if he tries not to take stock in the gossip.  The crobats at the community center, to quote Guzma, would gossip about the weather if they couldn't come up with a better subject.

Guzma ignores him and strides straight to the counter, the door nearly clipping his captive as it swings shut.  "Yeah, gimme two of the spicy ones. Eh… nah, three. Gimme three. Plume is gonna have a miltank if I don't bring her somethin'."

"Put me down!"  He makes a few flailing attempts to smack the man that go nowhere in light of the lack of coordination.  He's not sure he'd have the coordination when sober either.

"Dork, you're makin' a scene," Guzma reprimands him, shifting his weight and trying to reach behind him with his free hand.

"Er… th-that will be six hundred…" the clerk stutters," S-sir."

It's difficult to determine what the poor teen is more horrified at- the leader of Team Skull attempting to purchase baked goods like a reasonable member of society, or the former trial captain in a torn tuxedo held hostage during this transaction.  The shop is mostly empty, at least. A few trial goers appear to be half-asleep in one of the booths, probably out of funds for a hostel bed and not far enough along in their challenge to resort to sleeping on the beach. Molayne can remember being in a similar position a lifetime ago, while his two traveling companions waited for him to doze off so they could get handsy with each other.  Molayne was never as asleep as they thought.

The memory alone is enough to end his pitiful slap fight against the Skull leader.

"Eh, fucking hell. Grab my wallet?" Guzma requests, giving up on his struggle, " I can't reach the damn thing."

"No!"

He ignores the protests and shifts his weight so the skinny man over his shoulder slides somewhat closer to the floor, cause Molayne to grip him around the waist in fear.  "'s in my back pocket I think."

With the deep sigh of a lost internal locus of control, Molayne reaches down.  Guzma's pants pockets are far too deep for comfort and with this much alcohol behind him, he can't come up with any way to do this without brushing against the man's rear too much.  His best resort is 'as fast as humanly possible'. Before his brain can catch up to his actions, he's dropping a well-worn duct tape wallet into Guzma's hand.

Guzma doesn't close his hand, thinking through the coordination problem.  "Eh, grab the cash out, I can't do this shit one-handed."

"Just t-take them," the teen stutters, desperate for the thug to leave the establishment, "On-on the h-house!"

"'Aight then," Guzma shrugs.  He turns, forcing his captive face-to-face teenager attempting to hide behind the cash register.  The young man looks vaguely familiar, maybe someone Molayne tutored in algebra down at the community center. "Dork, take 'em for me, will ya?"

With another sigh, Molayne accepts the paper bag from the terrified clerk as Guzma jostles him in an attempt to stuff his wallet back in his pocket.   "No problem. Thanks, have a nice evening."

He can't even force the usual smile with his social niceties.  There's nothing to smile over. Kukui is with his new wife and Mo is getting malasadas with Guzma.  It's a perfect end to the worst day of his life.

Guzma notices none of the sheer cloud of despair circling him.  "Can't believe he gave that to us for free."

"He was scared of you, you oaf!" Molayne snaps.  He's not used to shouting and the words feel weird coming out of his mouth his often.  It has to be the stress. Or all the drinking.

"Jeez, don't think I didn't know?" he sounds insulted, "I'm not clueless, dork.  ...Don't get why though, I had cash."

"Because you beat him up recently?"

The Skull leader stops, scratches his chin, then keeps walking.  "Nah, never gave him a beat down. I don't like to fuck with the guys giving out the food."

"Maybe it was one of your other thugs," Molayne huffs.

"Maybe, I don't tell 'em who they can and can't beatdown," he shrugs and heads up the block.

"Do you not even care what this does to people?  He's going to get in trouble for giving us free food." Molayne would throw up his arms if it isn't for the paper bag he has to keep a grip on, stolen or no.  The smell of fresh baked malasada reminds him that he's starving. He couldn't touch any of the food at the wedding. Molayne would have just been vomiting in the bathroom instead of saving that for his boat ride with the Kahuna.

"Look at you, getting all frank with me," Guzma chuckles, turning up another street, "And why should I give a shit about them?  Not like any of them gave a shit about me."

Molayne can't respond to that.  It's too much truth and he's too drunk to ignore it.  No one had given a shit about Guzma but Kukui. Everyone on Melemele knew about his father.  A kid waltzing around his island challenge with bruises up his elbows should have aroused some kind of suspicion on the other islands.  No one intervened. No one asked. They found different topics to gossip about.

Molayne included.

Guzma makes a “hmph” at his lack of response before unceremoniously grasping both sides of his captive's hips and lifting him off his shoulder.  Molayne's sitting dumbfounded on a bench before he can flail and drop the malasada bag.

"See," Guzma, grin plastered across his face, points at the darkened library beyond the bench. "Just like you wanted.  Told you I wasn't here to give you a beat down or nothin'."

"...I guess not," he responds in disbelief, crinkling the paper bag, "Er, could I possible have one-"

"Yeah, did get one of 'em for you," the punk plops down on the bench, uncomfortably close.  He's huge. "Just one though, like I said. One of those is for Plume."

There's not enough room on Molayne's half of the bench to not feel _engulfed_ , but he doesn't feel like scooting away.  Guzma put him down, Guzma can figure out how to sit on a bench.  His former acquaintance isn't in the mood to be polite, not to him.

Except that he did just attempt to buy Molayne a malasada and took him to the library as requested.  There's no reason to be petty so he isn't. He gives the much larger man some space as he fishes out a malasada passes the paper bag.  "Guzma, the thoughtful boyfriend. Who knew."

"She ain't my girl, bro," he takes the bag and fishes out a second one.  For a second, Molayne swears he shifts closer on the bench. It has to be the alcohol.  All of the man's senses are a mess and judging from the double lamppost in front of the them, his spatial abilities can't be trusted right now.   "Just helpin' her out. 'sides, you know she's like fourteen right?"

Molayne almost chokes on the bite of malasada, "What?!"

He swore the girl was closer to twenty.  She looks closer to twenty and as far as Molayne knew she was living with Guzma (who… doing the math in his head should be around twenty-five these days, maybe twenty-six… he was older that Kukui who was two years older than Molayne).

"Yeah, I know," he chuckles, "I think she does it on purpose.  She looks like a kid without the makeup."

"So she is living with you?!" He wants to retract the question as soon as it comes from his mouth.  He got that information from the old crobats at the community center, and honestly, he needs to stop listening to anything they say.

"I mean, as much as any of 'em do," Guzma answers with his mouth full, "Her folks got real fucked investing in that Megamart, so it ain't like home is any better than the Shady House.  She couldn't finish her challenge either because of that shit."

"Shady house?"

"We named it. Clever right?" he beams at his own intelligence, "'Cause we're Team Skull and everyone calls us Shady?"

"....Oh, the Old Kahuna's mansion," Molayne remembers.  Po Town underwent a massive development project along with the construction of the Megamart in Tapu Village.  Bulu hadn't explicitly hated that, but with the Kahuna gone, no one had the courage to finish even his pet projects.  "The one you're squatting in."

The Skull leader polishes off the malasada with his second bite, "Not like anybody else was using it."

"It wasn't yours to just take." Much like the malasada Molayne is eating.

"I don't give a fuck," he responds with his mouth full.

"I know, I know," Molayne sighs, "you're the Big Bad Guzma, you never give a fuck about anyone.".

"Why should I? ...and I don't get why you _do_.  You got fucked by everyone here and yet you're still always chipper dopey Mo."  His words, for a change, sound less like a personal attack and more sincere (at least as sincere as Guzma's capable of).

"No one here is malicious," Molayne shoots back and immediately regrets his response.  He bites off too big of a piece of malasada to shut himself up. It's the alcohol in his system, it's speaking for him instead of his brain.

Guzma cocks an eyebrow at that, "But you agree you got fucked?"

The Kahuna requested Molayne go to University in Alola instead of abroad so he could uphold his duties as trial captain.  The other Kahunas asked Molayne to watch over Ula'ula some in lieu of a Kahuna, so graduate school had been out of the question.  His aunt still worried about Sophocles and no one else in the family understood what it was like to grow up as the 'smart kid'. His mom needed someone to take the vacuum up the stairs.

People here _needed_ him.  It wasn't a matter of getting fucked. That's the selfish sort of terms Guzma thinks in.

He could blame his delayed response on the alcohol, but the honest to Bulu truth is he has to chew and swallow first.  It doesn't give him near enough time to think anyway. The words are still too honest, even for Molayne. "...I could have said no."

"Dork, even I know you better than that," he snorts, leaning back and spreading out.  "I'd say hell'd have to freeze over first, but the old crobat aunties would turn into ice demons and you'd still do whatever they tell you."

Molayne huffs at that and takes another massive bite of malasada.  His eyes water at the spice, which is sort of a bonus. He's avoided thinking through this for years, there's no reason to cry over it now.  There's even less reason to cry to Guzma about it.

"Just sayin'," Guzma continues on, "You two always talked about all the exciting shit you were gonna see traveling the world. It was kinda bullshit Kukui left without you."

"He'd have been stupid to pass up a degree at Fuschia University," Molayne defends, "That's one of the top schools for Pokemon research in the world."

"You shoulda been there with 'im."

Molayne frowns.  He's tired of this conversation.  Kukui went on to chase his dreams, Molayne stayed to help Alola.  There's no argument to be had here. "Well, I didn't. You were just as smart as us and you stayed behind too.  I don't see why you're giving me such a hard time about it."

Guzma's eyes roll.  "Motherfucker, I'm _broke_.  I couldn't afford to go nowhere back then just like I can't afford to go nowhere now. 'cept maybe to bed once you sober up."

"Well, I'm sober, I'm going home for the night," he stands and takes a defiant step forward, which proves to be a critical error.  The streetlamp across the street oscillates with his sudden change in elevation. His foot lands somewhere to the left of its expected contact point. Molayne topples.

The other man jumps to catch him, hands around him before he can sink to the ground, "Yeah, sober my ass.  Just sit down, dork."

"I'm… fine…" Molayne protests though the words don’t sound convincing.   The sudden burst of anger fades as Guzma hoists him back onto the bench by his armpits.  He doesn't have the energy to scoot a respectable distance away from the man afterwards.

"I'll shut up if it'll keep ya from falling on your damn face," Guzma grumbles after Molayne's upright on the bench again and he can go back to lounging, "Bulu knows, you don't deserve takin' more shit tonight."

Except that, Guzma's… right.  To some degree. Molayne should have said no.  He should have left. He should be some respectable scientist right now, in some mainland region with real research and prestige.

Molayne should be someone worth it to Kukui.

Except he wasn't, and Burnet was.  Burnet's the accomplished scientist with dozens of publications and years of wormhole research and a laundry list of other accomplishments.  Molayne's… the guy that fixes the telescope at the observatory, which he only got because Kahuna Hala pulled a favor to keep him on Ula'ula. The research team couldn't say no to the Kahuna of Melemele, even if the company running the wind farm saw no reason to listen.

That's why he wasn't getting married today.  Molayne wasn't something Kukui was interested in a decade ago, and he hasn't made any improvements in recent years.

The tears swell in Molayne eyes and fall before he can stop them.  He regrets dropping the rest of his malasada in the dirt, at least the spice could serve as a reasonable excuse.  He's not going to cry about this now, not after so many years and not in front of _Guzma_ , of all people.  He made his choices, and he could be content with them. That was what counted.

Except, he wasn't content either.

"WHOA! Wait, no!" Guzma _jumps_ as the other man tears up, which should motivate Molayne stop but instead he breaks into a full-on sob.  "Oh hell no! No-"

He should stop crying.  He should wipe his eyes, apologize for getting emotional in front of the human scourge of Alola, and walk himself straight off the nearest cliff.  This is officially the worst day in his life. Every day of his miserable life has led up to this moment, so it shouldn't be something _unexpected_.  It's the sum total of every decision made over the years.

The result - turning into a washed up trial captain so drunk the Kahuna assigned a thug to babysit him.

Molayne sobs even harder.  His glasses knock off as he scrambles to wipe his eyes.  It barely registers when Guzma shakes off his shock paralysis to lean over and pick them off the bench.

"It- it- it…" the Team Skull boss stutters, out of his element, "It's not _that_ bad!"

Except, it is, and Molayne can't turn it off now.

An enormous hand clamps on his shoulder.  It hesitates there for a brief minute, before Molayne is yanked straight into Guzma.  His sobs are cut off abruptly as his face smashes into the other man's chest. He smells like sweat and weed and cheap body spray, and honestly, Molayne expected just as much.  It's comforting, in some strange way, to have confirmation of one constant. The earth still turns. Alola is still hot and sticky even though it's winter in this hemisphere. Guzma is _still_ a delinquent.

Even if said delinquent is now attempting to smother him in a misguided attempt to turn the crying off.

"Would ya' calm down?!  Kukui married someone else!  So what?!" he half-shouts, "You stuck around 'cause you're too much of a sap to disappoint.  So what? We got a new Kahuna now, you're fuckin' free. Go move up to Kanto and get a fancy ass degree and meet some hot dude.  Ain't like nobody around here would stop you now."

Molayne takes a deep breath before releasing a sigh.  "It's not that simple," he mutters into Guzma's tank top, unwilling to move.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one I have to get into a program," he points out, though the point sounds less emphatic and more pathetic since he can't bring his voice above a whimper.

"Don't even try to tell me ya can't," Guzma shoots back, his other hand falling somewhere between Molayne's shoulders and… resting there, as best the small man can tell.  "You're smart as shit, Mo."

"The wind turbine company didn't agree."  The words are muffled by Guzma's tank top as Molayne loses all wherewithal to un-faceplant himself.  He's right, he's pathetic, and this debate won't be worth the added energy.

"They're a bunch of Unovan dicks anyway," Guzma retorts, "Why the hell woulda want to work for 'em?"

Molayne shrugs, "Would've been exciting."

"Thought you liked bein' up on Hokulani all the time."

"I mean, I do… I do.  It's fun," he struggles with that last word, trying to itemize the reasons he stays at the observatory job, "All the equipment is really complex and interesting.  The people that work up there are fun. It's just… I'm the telescope repair man."

The Team Skull leader doesn't seem to process the problem.  "Okay, so?"

"...I mean, that's my life," Molayne restates, trying to put his frustration into words, "Browse the internet and wait for something to break."

Of course, in those terms, it isn't all _that_ bad of a job.

"You said it was fun."

Okay, now Guzma is just goading the problem out of him.  Molayne's.. too drunk to do anything about it. "...I guess it is."

"You ain't very confident about it," Guzma points out, trying to pull it it out.

There's nothing Molayne can do besides remind himself.  "I have a lot of free time, which is nice. It gave me all the time in the world to help cover when the last Kahuna went.  Even now, I have time for personal projects… time for Sophocles. I… can't really complain."

His student loans will be paid off in the next few years and his eye insurance lets him get new glasses every year.  To earn it, he spends time getting better with computer networks, training Diglett and Metang, and coming up with things for he and Sophocles to build on weekends.

In those terms, it _isn't_ all that bad of a job.

"So, why are you?"

 _Because Kukui didn't want someone who wastes their whole night doing whatever it is they feel like.  I'm not fucking_ accomplished _, like I should have been._

Guzma _cackles._ "Oi, damn dork.  You got it bad."

It's right then and there that Molayne realizes the thought didn't stay in his head.  He hadn't meant to say anything about Kukui. It's bad _enough_ the the thug could read it off his face and it's bad enough he's cried over it.  Admitting it just deepens the humiliation.

He can't even respond to the statement.   Guzma is _right_ , just like he's been _right_ this whole evening and Molayne can't hide anything from anyone, it seems.

"Eh, fuck him." A massive hand lands on the back of Molayne's neck as he starts sobbing again.  "So it wasn't his cup of tea, that's all. Fuck 'im. You said it yourself, _you_ like this shit."

"I do!"

"So, he don't.  You're different people, congrats," Guzma says, "You wouldn't have as much fun doing whatever shit he does all day."

It's… resoundingly true.

Molayne has a retort, but it evaporates as the point sinks in.  He doesn't have Kukui's drive to learn everything about pokemon and keep in tip-top training shape, and never has.  His two are enough for him, and they've gotten lax now that there's a real Kahuna around (they'll go for a few fights… at some point; Diglett's been happy to enjoy his pot of dirt and Metang's always been lazy).  The Battle Royal fights are fun to see, but Molayne can only take so much of watching the Masked Royal parade around stage.

And while Molayne could care less if Kukui wanted to get involved in any of his silly interests, Kukui's been the sort of person who wants his significant other involved in _everything_.  Guzma only traveled with them as kids after days of begging.  Most of their breakup revolved around his critical lack of interest in Pyukumuku chucking (which Molayne had to agree with Guzma on- it was a terrible way to make extra money, but he shut up and participated because Kukui wanted to).

Guzma leans back, content he's made a point despite the other man's silence.   "Ain't no point in looking for a deeper meaning."

"Well, then why the hell are you leading Team Skull?" Molayne questions, though his words don't hold any real accusation, "You can't tell me _that's_ fun."

"Don't knock it til you try it, dork.  'Sides," he adds, with all the deathly seriousness of a high schooler talking about a movie date, "I got bigger plans than this.  Alola's stuck on tradition, this place could use a little shaking up."

"Can't say I get how squatting and terrorizing the populace accomplishes that."

"Like I said," he's almost boasting about the islands' disdain for him, "I got bigger plans.  Shit takes time. I don't plan on babysitting a bunch of dumbasses forever, either."

Molayne can't in a million years guess what his plans are.  He's not sure he wants to know. If he knows, that'll ruin… all of this- the part where they're getting along for the first time ever, the part where Molayne is curled against him, forgetting the world beyond this bench.  Asking might invite that world in, and he's not ready for company. "I'll take your word for it."

Guzma seems… almost disappointed Molayne won't elaborate on the point.  He readjusts his posture, his fingers flitting underneath the hem of the tuxedo jacket.  "Damn right you will."

"Hopefully Bulu won't strike you down for it either," he muses in return, trying to remind the thug that there's a greater authority around these parts who has _zero_ problem relieving the island of problems.

"I'm as afraid of him as I'm afraid of Kahuna Nanu," the thug brags, which Molayne rolls an eye to.

"Which was quite a lot about an hour ago, since you agreed to take me home."

"Like I was sayin', I can't get a pickup from jail to save my life these days," Guzma reminds him, "Ain't me that's afraid of Kahuna Nanu, but it also ain't me that's allowed to pay bail."

"Yeah, right," Molayne settles against the other man's chest, before the alcohol in his brain recedes enough to let the confusion of the real world sneak through the gate, "...Why are you hugging me?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno," Guzma shrugs, though he doesn't release his grip, "Makes Plume stop cryin'."

"Oh," is the most response Molayne can muster before he wraps his own arm around him.  It's… comfortable. It's definitely more comfortable than Molayne expected. He's still drunk and still miserable and in light of those things, it doesn't actually matter that Guzma's a thug running a little gang out of the ruins of a development project.  The feeling of having _anyone else_ wrapped around him, shielding him from reality for just a few minutes, takes the edge off of… well everything.

For the first time since all the wedding planning started, Molayne _breathes_.  His eyes shut as Guzma's heart thuds against his ear.  They must look ridiculous, since Guzma is twice his size and Molayne's wearing a Tapu-damned _tuxedo_ and it's got to be well past two in the morning at this point.  But, as Guzma less than eloquently put it- who cares?

"You _are_ right about Alola being a bit stuck in their ways," Molayne admits after a few minutes of quiet.  

"Huh?" he sounds almost surprised at Molayne's conclusion, before reaffirming his point, "'Course I am."

Molayne rolls his eyes at his arrogance, but he can't help smile a bit.  "We don't even have a PC system. I've been reading online- every region's got one these days for pokemon storage."

"It's on a list of my complaints, yeah," Guzma agrees.  Molayne's not sure he even knows what a Box system is or that almost every other region has one.  

"I dunno, I was thinking I should just _start_ one, just so we could have it."

"Thought you wanted to leave?"

"...I don't think it would actually make me happy," Molayne admits.  "Going out on my own and all. Back in the day, when it would have been me and Kukui… yeah, that sounded like fun.  I think the 'off on another adventure with Kukui' was what I wanted more than leaving."

Plus, Sophocles will need some help getting started as a Trial Captain.   The other captains are too far off to be any real assistance in the beginning.  Allegedly there's a girl running her own trial at the far side of Ula'ula, but Molayne hasn't met her and can't feel good leaving his cousin to seek her out.  He would rather be the one to make sure Soffy's settled.

"Fair enough," Guzma shrugs, "So start the PC thing then."

As if it's _that_ easy- setting up a region-wide network with technology Molayne's never seen before and making it run perfectly for every trainer in Alola.  He'll have that wrapped up by dinner, yes. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Of course, Guzma believes it's that easy.  "Go email somebody in another region who runs one, they can prolly tell you."

"You can't just do that."

"Why not?" he shrugs.

"I don't know any of them!" Molayne states the bare facts.  He's got no professional network to speak of, not without begging Kahuna Hala for help.  "It'd be weird sending an email out of the blue. I don't even have contact information for any of these people."

Guzma's quiet for a second, pondering over the answer, "Go ask the old man if he knows anybody that can help."

"Hala can't-" Molayne starts, though he realizes sharply who Guzma means.

_Kahuna Nanu._

_He means_ Kahuna Nanu.

_The Kahuna who doesn't so much as want to talk to me._

"I can't-" he corrects himself, though Guzma cuts him off.

"Oh shut up, yeah you can.  He's the fucking Kahuna, half his job is answering dumb questions and helping the island.  'bout time he did one of those things."

Molayne rolls his eyes at the sheer, simple point Guzma is missing.  "I mean, just because he's left Alola doesn't mean he knows anyone who manages a PC system."

"Probably would if he was in Interpol.  Or at least knows somebody who does know somebody."

"You don't _really_ believe he was in Interpol, do you?" Molayne jabs at him.  The Aunties at the community center like to talk. They also thought Hala's son and Kukui joined Interpol and seem convinced Molayne will one day meet a nice woman and have a happy, stock photo-perfect family with her.

The other man shrugs, "C'mon, worst he says is no."

Molayne shakes his head, "He's a busy guy, I can't bother him with requests like that."

"Sure you can," Guzma says, "Where's your phone, I'll do it for you."

"It's dead, don't even think about it," Molayne mumbles, shutting his eyes again, "Besides, he'd probably just think you kidnapped me or robbed me if you start texting him.  I've gotten texts from you, they're illegible."

"I can make 'em not," he insists, "I'd even use punctuation."

"I guess that's one way of showing respect to your elders."

They both chuckle at that.  Guzma's hand slides somewhere around Molayne's waist and Molayne lets it happen.  It's a comfortable feeling is totally false, since this is Guzma and this is the alcohol in Molayne system making him feel even _okay_ about this.  But, before he sobers up, Molayne's going to enjoy being curled up against him, listening to his heart beat.   He's having fun for the first time in weeks. There's no reason to look for a deeper meaning.

"...The old man's going to have a miltank if he passes by here on rounds and sees you're not home yet," Guzma mutters after what feels like an hour.  Molayne jolts a little. He doesn't remember dozing off, but he also barely remembers how he wound up laying on Guzma on a park bench. Honestly, anything is possible.

"Right… I should get home." He doesn't want to.  He wants to fall asleep here until the sky falls on top of the two.  "I've embarrassed myself to him enough tonight."

"He ain't gonna care about you bein' drunk, it was a wedding.  Prolly had to carry out Hala too."

"Come to think of it," Molayne muses, "I don't remember seeing Hala much after the actual ceremony."

Guzma snorts at that, pulling the skinny man in for a final squeeze, "Tellin' ya, old Nanu hauled him out before everyone else."

He lets go abruptly, pulling away from Molayne.  It's… a conflicting. Guzma's comfortable, there's no doubt about that.  This is also the nicest Molayne's seen him act towards any human in over a decade.  Maybe even more than a decade, because he was a shit in their in their challenge days too.

At the end of the day, he's still Guzma.  Through the drunken haze, Molayne forces himself to remember that.  This is the big-bad-anti-Kahuna-anti-tradition-nerd-beating-surprisingly-insightful-very-comfortable-weirdly-calming boss of all the Skull Punks terrorizing Alola.

He's also right about Kahuna Nanu.  If the man somehow catches the two of them still out, he'll have… well, he'll have whatever constitutes a fit for him.  He's a terrifying man, but in reality his emotions never stray half a standard deviation from baseline. Molayne can't tell whether that should make him more or less afraid. Lockup over at Po Town would be the absolute _icing_ to Molayne's terrible cake of a day, though.  Hell, he'd have to let Guzma calls his punks for a bailout, since he certainly couldn't tell his family and couldn't bear to bring that to Kukui or Burnet.  

"You may be right about that," Molayne sits up on his own and stretches.  The world still looks unsteady, but he might be able to stumble home. His apartment, after all, is right across the street.  "Kahuna Hala does appreciate a good party."

"Oh, 'm sure the old Aunties have some stories."  Guzma stands, and offers the former trial captain a hand up.  

Molayne takes it, saving the second thought for the moment he is standing and Guzma hesitates letting go.

"So where ya livin' these days?" he asks, grabbing Molayne by the shoulder instead and jerking him right off his feet.  An arm around his waist catches him from falling.

"Other direction," Molayne laughs, despite himself, despite everything.  He gestures with his head directly across the street. "I'm in that building."

Guzma chuckles himself, steering him towards his building.  "'course the nerd wanted to live right o'cross from the library."

"Don't knock it, it's convenient.   You'd know if you ever had an overdue library fine," he jests in return as the wander across the street.  Molayne fumbles with his keys for a minute to open the security gate.

"Wouldn't know, that'd require me picking up a book," Guzma fake shudders in return, his massive hand clasping around Molayne's to steady the key into the lock.

Molayne almost freezes and drops the key.  He would have, if the hand in question making him freeze doesn't give him a near death grip.  Almost to his disappointment, the lock opens. Guzma pulls the door open one-handed and shuffles him up the stairs, pressed unavoidably close behind to keep Molayne from falling on his own face.

"Who knows, you might learn something from it," Molayne quips, the response delayed.  He's too distracted by the proximity. Guzma is… right behind him. His hand has snaked somewhere around his stomach, ready to hold him up if he stumbles.

Including their nap on the bench, Molayne's never been _this close, this long_ to another person in his life- not even Kukui.  Under the influence of alcohol, it feels positively _symbolic._ Kukui was always there to catch him if he stumbled.   He never did a damn thing to mitigate stumbling in the first place.

"Eh, well… eh," Guzma fails to come up with another point for their joust, "Which floor's yers?"

"Oh, this one."  Third floor. Molayne can't believe they've arrived at his door already, right next to the stairs.  He hadn't been paying attention to the stairs. The man behind him took up too much of his consciousness.  "This one is my place."

To his dismay, he manages to point the key into the lock on his apartment the first go.  He isn't sure why he's dismayed. In his conscious mind, he doesn't want to invite Guzma in.  He hardly owns anything, but what he can't afford anything stolen. Besides, inviting him in opens a can of worms even alcohol can't quell the anxiety of.   

Anxious reality gushes to replace the sudden void of warm closeness commingled with far too many drinks. He's not- he's not ready-

"Well, thank you," Molayne responds lamely as Guzma releases his grip.   "I… appreciate the help home."

Guzma cracks a one sided smile.   "Anytime. Gets me off the hook and all."

"Yeah, no jail for you."  There's a forced laugh with that.  The joke is probably on Molayne, the joke is probably a reminder of the many light years out of his element he is.  This is _Guzma_ being nice to him, Molayne's got no experience to his name, Kukui just got married, he's drunk, he's way too drunk, this would be easier if he hadn't sobered up a little from the malasada and the nap, he should have sobered up more because he shouldn't have let _Guzma_ get this close to his door, he should just invite-

A massive hand reaches around the back of his neck and Molayne shuts his eyes and just… goes with it.  Lips crash together a second later, less from his neck being pushed forward and more from enthusiasm to participate.  It's… rougher than he expected. The sample size for comparison holds one other case', and that was less of a kiss and more Kukui jerking away in stunned horror.  If anything, kissing Guzma is the direct opposite. Molayne finds himself half shoved against the door with the force.

It's over almost as fast as his previous 'first kiss'.  Guzma pulls away, leaving the other man gaping at him.

"Ya oughta sleep, you're drunk as hell," he says, the smile stretching to both corners of his face.  He releases Molayne's head to turn the door knob, knocking the door open with a shove. "Mission accomplished, ya made it home safe."

Molayne reattaches his jaw from where it seems to have fallen towards the floor.  "...Right."

"Don't go 'round sayin' I never did nothing for ya," Guzma gives him a should nudge halfway over the threshold before turning back towards the stairs.  It's far more gentle than it could be, and Molayne knows it.

For a moment, Molayne stares at his back, unsure of if the last five seconds were some drunken hallucination.   Guzma's… leaving, and there's some semblance of polite protocol to obey in this situation. He needs to do something, say something, because Guzma's at the stairs and soon he'll disappear down them and the night will be _over._

He can't invite him in.  There's a whole world of reasons he can't invite the Team Skull boss in, starting with he's Guzma, rounding a corner at Molayne is still too drunk to stand (but now sober enough to panic), and ending with that's the farthest Molayne's gotten with another person _ever_.  A thread of reason forces its way into Molayne's head, telling him to go the fuck inside.

It fractures the drunken stupor but integrates into the reminder that his evening could have been much worse and Guzma has likely never been this nice to _anyone_.  Ever.  

"Hey, let me know you got home safely!" Molayne calls as the other man all but disappears down the stairs, back towards the street.

Guzma halts and stands on his toes so their eyes meet over the floor level.  "Huh?"

"It's… a long way back to Po Town and all," Molayne smiles, though the last inch or so of his grin is forced through embarrassment and alcohol.  "Please let me know you got back."

The Skull boss snorts a laugh and shakes his head, disappearing out of view.  "'Aight then. 'Night, dork!"

"...Goodnight," Molayne mumbles, stumbling into his apartment and shutting the door behind him.

His bed in the corner is more than a welcome sight.  In a few steps, Molayne's falling into it, tuxedo, borrowed oxfords, and all.  The tuxedo is torn anyway. The deposit won't be reinstated by _not_ sleeping in it at this point.

A blanket is drawn over him.  Molayne pops an eye open to see Metang hovering just beyond the mattress, waiting for an invite into bed.   Cracking a lopsided smile, he pats the side of bed. Metang swoops in, nestling itself in a little pile of blankets.  Just beyond, Diglett pokes his head out of the planter in the other corner (on the list of things Molayne's drunken brain registers he needs to get the poor thing a bigger planter… or just declare to hell with his deposit and move a dirt pile into his apartment).   He gets a wave and a drunken 'goodnight'.

His drunken brain also registers, jolting back into awake, that the phone does need to come out of his pocket and go on the charger.  Once it lights up, swirling with a restart, the cumberbun and the shoes feel uncomfortable. From there, Molayne twists his way out of his jacket and at that point he might as well strip down to his boxers and undershirt and _now_ he's comfortable.  

The doors unlocked, still.  Molayne stumbles his way back out of bed to fix that.  Metang could, but he's too cozy in his blanket pile and the former trial captain has disturbed enough folks tonight.  His pokemon, at the least, can be spared his drunken stumbles.

He's not sure who would even break in at this point.  He just kissed the fucking leader of Team Skull. The stupid little punks would catch hell if they tried anything.   The habit remains, though.

Besides, he's got nothing worth stealing anyway.   His desktop, maybe, but the Observatory will fund him building another if push comes to shove.  His credit card has a p3000 limit, there's p500 in his wallet at most, and his cell phone is three years old.  Molayne's the one person in the world pathetic enough to be robbed blind without any impact. Hell, they could beat the piss out of him and no one on Alola would suffer any _practical_ loss.

He's a sad example of humanity, that's all there is to it.

Smacking himself in the forehead, Molayne falls back into bed.  He needs to get the fuck over himself. He needs to do _something_ of value.  Guzma… Guzma was right.  He's smarter than this. He needs to fucking _do_ something about it.

He needs to ask Kahuna Nanu about that box system, because that's something he _can_ do, and he _can_ do it tomorrow as long as there's a starting point.  It might be the alcohol talking but he can't leave the islands (due to money) and he can't exactly call Guzma and ask him to stay the fucking night (due to a total lack of experience and he isn't about to embarrass himself), but he _can_ set up up a box system if he can find the starting point.

It's… something.  It's a step forward, and given it has to be almost four it's the only step the former trial captain can take right now.

>   
>  HI Kahuna nanu.  orry to disturb you but I was wondering if you had any familiarity wth the pokemon storage box systems.   Ive been interested in setting one up for alola and was told you might know somethjmg. Its a bit embarass in we dint have one here, im sure you're used to a better.  No need to respond if youd on't! Thanks you!

The text is fired off before his brain can make him regret it.  Guzma's right (about that at least). He's free to do as he pleases.  Leaving Alola is a out of the picture, a master's degree is a stretch… but, the box system might be within reach.

Maybe.

Molayne is asleep and drooling on his pillow before he can make himself anxious over whether or not presuming Kahuna Nanu has these sorts of contacts is impolite.

-

The next morning, Molayne awakes in a haze that's swiftly broken by the urge to throw up.  He half-trips over the snoozing metang, scuttles towards the bathroom, and dry heaves a few times.  Nothing comes up. Either there's not enough water in him or he wasn't as drunk as he suspected. Usually he's praying to the porcelain god after nights like these, and that's with Kukui always cutting him off.

There was a brunch something or another this morning, Molayne remembers as he lays on the cold tile and stares at the flickering ceiling light.  The Melemele Kahuna was hosting it for the newlyweds on behalf of the other Kahunas (the Akala Kahuna too busy, the Poni Kahuna too ill, the Ula'ula Kahuna too… Nanu).  It wasn't a strict island tradition, but Kahuna Hala (or more accurately, his wife) insisted on doing something nice for Alola's finest.

Kukui had some announcement he wanted to make there as well, though Molayne hadn't gotten the details on that.  It was more than a little hurtful, he never failed to divulge secret plans to Molayne before anyone else. Now his best friend is just another member of the crowd.

The former trial captain checks his phone to assess the damage of the night before (after Metang dutifully brings it to him and cuddles up on the tile floor).  It's two; he's definitely missed the brunch. Such is life, he wouldn't make it there sober anyway. More than a few texts have lit up his phone since this morning, so he must have been missed.  It's for everyone else's own good.

Kukui 

> We missed you at brunch!  All good though, guess you had a little too much fun last night.  You deserved it! Thanks again for everything, the wedding was great!  Burns and I really appreciate all the work you put into it. Glad you got a chance to kick back!

>   
>  Anyway, we're moving back here in a couple months- that was the big announcement.  Burnet picked up some research on Akala and I'm getting set up in a few projects myself.  I'll tell you all about it later if I catch you before our flight to Kalos leaves!

Kahuna Nanu 

> Agree with you there. This place is about twenty years in the past as far as the pokebank situation goes.  Give me a buzz when the hangover passes. We can meet for dinner and talk it out. I know a few folks that'll help you get it started.

Dr. Burnet

> Hey Mo!  Just wanted to say thanks for all the help with the wedding.  Everything was wonderful. Kukui couldn't have had a better friend to choose for best man.  I hope you got home safely. Kahuna Nanu said he'd take care of you, but can't say I trust that man can take care of himself.  I know Kukui likes him but agree to disagree. Anyway, talk to you at this brunch thing maybe, but don't push it.

Soffy

> I cant understand any of that text

>   
>  You dont need help, rite? Mom says Im still grounded for rewiring the blender for turbo mode

>   
>  Was the wedding fun?

>   
>  Moms making grilled sausage and peppers for dinner btw

Unknown Number

> made it to po town alive

>   
>  if ure still feeling down ure welcome over here u no

>   
>  us rejects gotta stick together

Reality cuts through the hangover, as the recollection of the previous night comes crashing back at him.  It hits like a thunderpunch, leaving him dazed and confused on the cold tile. Molayne kissed Guzma.

Guzma.

The punk who made fun of him when they went on their island challenge, let his dofus thugs beat him up when they were teenagers, and hasn't been a hell of a decent person since those days ended.

Molayne let _Guzma_ walk him home and then they kissed goodnight.

The shock and disgust at himself doesn't hit.  Molayne braces for it, expecting to retch at the cognizance (which luckily, he's by the toilet for).  He doesn't.

It wasn't all that bad.  Guzma hasn't really spoken to him in years, let alone tried to beat him up.  Molayne probably should have asked what he was up to these days (...or at least, what the intricacies of being 'Team Skull leader' imply).  As the least, he could have not moped and complained about his life the entire time. All in all, his behavior last night was a little rude.

Granted, it's still Guzma- the punk with a hundred hangers on, folks who'd just about walk off the end of the earth for him.  Who knows what he meant by the gesture. Molayne can't remember who was responsible for the kiss in the first place, but it ended and Guzma isn't here.  If Molayne started it… well, Guzma finished it because he certainly wasn't up for any change of scenery for the night. If it _was_ , by some weird fluke in the time-rift and maybe a little magic thrown in, Guzma… well, it's not as if it _meant_ anything.

Right?

Even it did, Molayne can't… he's not _on_ the same path.  'Rejects'- Molayne has to chuckle at that.  Guzma was right about some things last night, but wrong about a lot of other ones.  Ula'ula didn't screw the former trial captain over, he'd gotten a lot out of staying here.  He learned to be a trial captain and then a substitute Kahuna, when no one who knew him during his island challenge years could accuse him of leading anything or anyone.  Ula'ula came out of the affair unscathed, so he must have managed.

In sobriety, Kukui getting married isn't the end of the world.  They're still the best of friends, and Kukui still cares about him (in his own airheaded way).  It's a dumb crush that's gone on too long. Molayne can start looking into some kind of therapy for it.  Pining is a just a pointless endeavor. And besides, Burnet's an awesome person (...and balances out her husband's airheadedness, Molayne has to admit).  Molayne couldn't _dislike_ her.

Kahuna Nanu might still be the single most frightening person he's ever encountered, but he wasn't _bad_ at his job.  He might not even be all that lazy, considering he'd been out an about most of the night and _still_ awake before Molayne. The approach to his duties is a little… untraditional, but he didn't arrive to his position under traditional circumstances.  Considering he's spent decades away from Alola, he isn't a traditional sort of Alolan anyway. His reign doesn't need tradition. Maybe Ula'ula more needs a Kahuna that makes punks pay off public urination charges by walking drunks home.

Molayne had a terrible night.  This isn't a terrible place and Alolans aren't terrible people.  Hell, he has three different dinner invitations (which… he'll panic over later).  

Even Guzma isn't that bad of a guy.

Guzma _had_ given him his first _real_ kiss, which is more than Molayne can say for the rest of the world. Granted, it was all a stupid, drunken decision on Molayne's part and Guzma… well, Tapu Bulu only knew what Guzma had been thinking.  Maybe Molayne kissed him first. In any case, nobody's ever kissed _back_.  That's a plus towards Guzma, amongst an rray of minuses over the years.

The former trial captain's gut twists in a way that doesn't implicate impending nausea.  Alola isn't a terrible place for Molayne, but it is for him. He's created most of that hell for himself, but the rest of the island hasn't done him any favors in the process.  Pity might not be the right word for what Guzma deserves, but the least Molayne can do is not be rude.  

> Hey, thanks for last night.  I appreciate the offer, and I'm glad you got home okay.

Molayne's never made it past the first kiss.  He's not sure what else to say and fires off the text.  A strong part of him wants to take him up on the offer, wander down to Po Town right now and lose the rest of his stupid virginity.  A part of him reminds himself that he's still a little drunk from yesterday, another part screams that Kahuna Nanu wants to meet him for dinner (and he needs to do a few laps around the block to sober up for _that_ ), and a larger part reminds him this is still the leader of Team Skull.  Guzma's spent the last couple years in and out of jail. He's running one of the worst gangs to ever terrorize Alola.

He also isn't all that bad of a guy, not all the time.

Molayne's just not that sort of person.   Despite himself, he's got three different dinner invitations, of which he's going to panic about later.  He might have the startings of a box system here on Alola, he's at least got some traction. He's got a cousin who depends him (since his aunt and uncle don't know how to handle a gifted kid).  He's got a best friend who's moving back home soon with his cool wife.

The proper response seems complicated and Molayne doesn't know answer.  This isn't the telescope, nothing's broken and in need of fixing. Complication to his life _doesn't_ make Molayne happy.

There's no reason to search for a deeper meaning, right?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is supposed to take place like 2-3 years or so before the game. The timeline sort of breaks down with Molayne. It's implied he recently overturned his title to Sophocles, but he's also contemporary to Kukui and Guzma, who are definitely over 21. I tried to patch it a bit with the idea that he sort of hung around managing things a few years over 20 in lieu of a Kahuna. He's supposed to be around 23-24 in this.
> 
> Also I headcannon hard that Nanu mispronounces Molayne as Molly-Anne and Molayne is too polite to correct him. (Looker: why do you keep referring to him with that name? that is a girl's name and it is very rude behavior from you. this is not acceptable and I will have to now apologize on your behalf).
> 
> Anyway, there's a second chapter to this somewhere in my bones. We'll see.
> 
> Also thanks to Ron for the beta!


End file.
